


Sewer-Dwelling Gutter Witch

by July



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Bottom!Outsider, M/M, Muteness, mind-reading, mute corvo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:21:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4306632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/July/pseuds/July
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(A working title.) Corvo never asked for the Outsider's attention, and hates the god watching his every move only to see if he's interesting enough. He is irritated when he is interrupted by the Outsider during Lady Boyle's party, and proves just how interesting he can be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sewer-Dwelling Gutter Witch

Corvo never wanted anything to do with the god. He never asked to close his eyes upon his first night as a free man and open them only to find himself in the Void. It seemed his freedom did not last more than a mere few hours before he was shackled once again. The black-eyed bastard drew him into his realm, branding him with his mark. It made the former Lord Protector falsely branded not just once as a murderer, but twice as a heretic.

The fabled Outsider was not indeed a fable, but a real, tangible being who visited him, gave him the powers he now used to hunt and stalk his prey. Corvo wasn’t ungrateful for these powers, no, but he never asked for them. The god acted as if his mark was a blessing to Corvo, but he had a feeling that, if pressed, he would have gotten along fine without it. The Outsider knew this and it showed in the smirk on his face. _I know you don’t want this, Corvo, but you_ do _need it. You need me._ The words never ceased to infuriate him, more so when he slowly began to realize the god was right.

Once Corvo had found a shrine dedicated to him, The Outsider made it a routine to appear before him, hovering just off the ground, black eyes boring into his. Whenever it happened, Corvo gritted his teeth and sneered behind the mask, all too sure the other knew he was doing it. This time, an abandoned apartment across the street from the Boyles’ estate, empty save for the dusty, filth-covered furniture. The faint violet glow coming from the windows in the darkness of night were a dead giveaway, and yet he still found himself drawn to it like a beacon. As soon as the rune was in his hand, the Outsider materialized before him, voice smooth and coy.

“Going to a party, Corvo?”

The assassin prepared himself for the rambling speech he always received, but something suddenly felt different. The way the god smiled, he had not done it before. Only a smirk ever persisted on his lips, but now he revealed to Corvo a set of neat, white teeth. He couldn’t place why, but he felt entirely unnerved by the display. Suddenly he was paying closer attention rather than preparing to not listen to whatever the god had to say.

“Got your attention now?” he continued. “You really ought to listen this time, Corvo. I don’t know what you plan to do, but I do know this will be Lady Boyle’s last party.”

Corvo was silent, as always, behind the mask, and the Outsider seemed to pause, leaving silence between them. If the Outsider’s eyes could give away any sign of movement, Corvo would swear he felt the god’s gaze flickering over him. He simply tilted his head, wordlessly asking if he was done.

“I don’t know why you try to resist me so much,” the young man said, the jest remaining in his voice, yet his smile was fading. “I present no harm to you, only a blessing of my mark and all the power that comes with it, and yet you’re defiant in the face of very old and very powerful god.”

Despite his tone, Corvo easily picked up on the concealed threat and his adrenaline spiked. He felt the mark burning on his hand, getting ready to bolt for the window and blink as far as he could from the room. It would be pointless, the formless being needing no confined space to corner him in. Instead he stood his ground, feeling the rage boil inside him from the Outsider’s smugness.

“I never asked for this!” he blurted suddenly, voice cracking, the first words he had said in a long time, surprising both himself and the god before him. The Outsider’s eyebrows raised as Corvo removed the mask, tucking it into his jacket. He felt the blood coursing ice cold through his veins, his throat aching, lips quivering and threatening to make him stutter on the next words. He was furious, glaring at the insufferable god studying him with a blank, black stare.

“Nobody ever asks for my mark,” the Outsider replied carefully. “Nobody truly worth their salt, anyway.”

He fumed, not breaking his gaze into the bruised pits of the god’s eyes. Corvo wished he could turn and leave, wished he could get out of the decaying apartment where he found the shrine and be out of the Outsider’s presence. But he would never truly be out of it, not while the mark still seared on his hand.

“There’s nothing you can do to make me go away, Corvo,” the god said flatly, no sign of teasing or anger in his voice. It was simply a fact, one the assassin knew perfectly well, a fact he needed to accept. Still, he was standing there staring it in the face and refusing to.

“Fine,” Corvo said, trying his best not to sound too strained. He pulled the mask out from his coat, just as the Outsider was fading from view, the scene of the apartment reappearing around him. He found it strange the god had no more to say, but he shoved the thought out of his mind as he focused on the task at hand.

\--

He should have known to at least spend some time practicing the art of speech before the party. It had been so long since Corvo had spent any time in any kind of high social event, and even when he thought back to the times when Jessamine was still alive, he never had to speak much then, either. He could, no matter what some people ever said of him, he just avoided it, an overwhelming internal silence cutting him off before he could even utter a single word.

An hour past countless comments on just how _wicked_ his mask was, and Corvo was standing in the main hall next to the guestbook, guards by the doors and staircases at ten, twelve and three o’clock. He walked slowly, pretending to mingle, eyes fixed on the open balcony above him. He felt the guards’ watch on him, but he didn’t feel apprehensive under their gaze. It was strange to feel so at ease around them once again. Still, he needed to wait for a distraction, as disappearing into thin air would still draw attention. He let the magic flow through him, the mark pulsing, and closed his hand to a fist.

The room around him was frozen, and Corvo worked quickly to find a lady in a garish cat mask, plucking it off to reveal a face that would have best been left covered, letting it float in midair. The world resumed and the woman’s surprised shriek echoed throughout the front hall, all eyes on her as she stooped to retrieve the fallen mask, and Corvo was up on the balcony.

Crouching through the libraries and art galleries of the Boyle Mansion, he darted easily past the lax guards keeping patrol in the hallways. Soon enough he found himself in the first bedroom of the Boyle sisters. The open journal on the desk revealed the sister to be Esma. The room was massive and opulent, bathed in red and gold, vaguely reminding Corvo of the palace. Only this seemed even more extravagant. A fleeting thought made him wonder if every mansion in the district was like this, but he resigned to flipping through the pages of the journal, trying and failing to find any mention of Esma’s dealing with Burrows.

The more he skimmed the pages, the more he felt he was being watched. No guard was near him, even when Corvo turned his head around the room seeing through the walls. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end when he approached the beginnings of the journal, culminating in a chill down his spine. He flipped the book back to the page he had started on, taking in a deep breath and standing up, knife at the ready as whirled around.

“Seems you’re snooping a little heavily, Corvo.”

He almost grunted in frustration, the Outsider standing just behind him in the room. The assassin straightened out his coat, resorting to an irritated huff behind his mask. Once his immediate annoyance passed, however, Corvo noticed something different. The Outsider was not surrounded by darkness and eerie sparks now. He was standing on the floor, not floating.

“Wanting to be thorough? Making sure than in every sordid detail of Esma Boyle’s accounts isn’t code for her ties to the Lord Regent?”

He felt the heat rise in his face. Esma did seem to have a reputation for being the more promiscuous sister, one she solidified in her journal in lurid description. As he skimmed, he barely registered it, something he was sure the Outsider would have noticed. Why he stood before him questioning it was beyond him. He stayed on high alert.

_What the hell do you want?_

Corvo jerked his head towards the door behind him, refusing to speak to the Outsider, but hopefully communicating that he needed to move on. It only made the god chuckle at him.

“You’re so down to business. Don’t worry, nobody outside this room will find us.”

They won’t find _you_ , he wanted to say. But when he thought about it, it was likely everything outside the room was frozen in time like he had just done. To that point, the Outsider was not one to directly interfere with his task at hand.

“I never did finish what I wanted to say to you before you arrived. You seemed upset so I let you be.” The Outsider began to move, head down, taking a few steps to his side, like he was pacing. His movements were awkward and stiff where Corvo expected grace. The god presented himself in such an elegant form, floating in the air or in the Void, materializing rather than moving, always with an air of grandiosity, always making an entrance. The way he moved now, as if trying desperately to appear human, made Corvo more nervous than usual.

“Is this what you dreamed of, all those months in Coldridge Prison while waiting for the executioner? Wealth, beautiful women in the latest fashions, laughing and drinking Tyvian wine?”

Corvo was still, observing his movements beginning to look looser, less unnatural.

“Half the city can see the lights from the party, and they dream of the delights inside. I’m just asking - will you tear it all to pieces?”

His jaw clenched. He didn’t plan on it, but when the Outsider said it that way, he wondered about the rest of Dunwall holed up in their tiny homes, coughing blood into their handkerchiefs, trying to hold onto whatever life they could before the plague took them. The Boyle Mansion was filled with healthy, wealthy people taking medicine for the disease while everyone else died. If he had been dead-set on his task before, he was considering the possibility now.

“I’m not trying to convince you to do anything, Corvo. Your fate is for you to decide.”

He wanted to snort in disbelief, but his anxiety about the guards outside kept him silent. He didn’t believe it for a second, not when the Outsider’s shrines were so conveniently in the middle of his path every time. However, that still didn’t explain why the god stood before him now, appearing as a person nonetheless.

“Fine, Corvo,” he said, a small sigh escaping him. “No more _bullshit_ , as you’re thinking. My motivation is this; you fascinate me. Only eight people in this world bear my mark, and you’re about the last interesting one I’ve bestowed my gifts upon.”

So the rest became boring, Corvo thought. How long until it was his turn, and the god’s fascination turned to ire and resentment? Once Emily sat on the throne, most likely, his job finished. He feared that much more than the attention he was getting. Corvo reached to his face, taking the mask off and tucking it into his inner jacket pocket. It just sounded like more bullshit, and he felt his blood boiling. He began to walk towards the Outsider, unsure of what it would accomplish, until he stood only a few feet from the being. 

He only smiled, the corner of his mouth twitching. The Outsider in this form felt absolutely real, not like a vision or a spectre, but almost like he was breathing. The eerie black eyes still kept him from looking too human, never giving away just where he was looking.

"You surprised me first when you kept the High Overseer's blood off of your hands, branding him with the heretic’s mark instead,” the god murmured. "You never killed the Pendleton brothers, either, once again, I did not expect that. Surprises are interesting, Corvo, I like when I've found someone interesting."

_And when I'm not?_

"I wouldn't worry about that."

He had no trust in that statement whatsoever. He was face to face with the god now, nothing but deep blackness in his eyes. The gap between them was closing now, the Outsider having shifted in towards Corvo. The assassin's face was flaring up, most of it from anger. His heart was thudding in his chest, the god just smiling at him patiently. It was obvious now what the he wanted, but Corvo was unsure if it was right to take it. Still, it had to be interesting.

Against his better judgement, Corvo brought his hand to the young man's face, expecting him to feel anything except real. But his skin felt like skin, warm, dry and smooth. He had said nobody outside of the room would ever find them. Corvo must have been mad when he found himself grasping at the god's face with both hands, squeezing his eyes shut before smashing their lips together.

The kiss, if it could be called that, was rough, barely lasting a few seconds before Corvo wrenched himself away. The Outsider simply laughed, sending chills down the assassin's spine. It seemed to be exactly what he wanted.

"Don't think I don't see the merit in mortal pleasures, Corvo," the Outsider purred. "You are free to go, but do keep things interesting."

Glancing toward the door, he didn't feel at all compelled to leave. His attention was now focused solely on the being in front of him. So tangible was he that Corvo had felt him with his own hands and lips, just a man in this room with him now. Nothing outside was in motion, this meeting never occurring in time.

He was overwhelmed, knowing that if he left he would suffer the Outsider looming over him from his own dimension, constantly waiting for him to do something _interesting_. Over time he would lose interest, that was a given, leaving Corvo at the mercy of an all-powerful being who was bored of him. He studied the god's face, glaring at him, taking precious seconds to consider his fate. The only thing he was sure of was that he had never wanted to be free of his attention more. Corvo really, truly hated it.

With a grunt, he reached for him again, anger channeled in a kiss. His lips claimed the other's in an attempt to possess, mouths wrenched open as teeth collided. Corvo expected the Outsider to taste of nothing, and he did, hollow and without feeling. That was until he felt heatless hands cup his face, gently pulling away, just enough their noses still touched.

"That is interesting," the god said with a low murmur. Corvo dared not look in his eyes, nor did he linger to allow him to speak further. A thumb ran tenderly over his cheek and he bit back a reaction, deciding to silence both of them with another kiss.

The nothingness seemed to fade away in his mouth as soon as he felt movement from the Outsider. He returned Corvo's roughness with soft lips and languid tongue, amused smile on his lips. He tasted more human now, but there was something artificial, something awkward like when he tried to walk. Corvo pulled away, breath hot, and pressed his face into the other man's pale neck. He bit hard on the skin, garnering a hiss from the Outsider, surprising him. Corvo's lips searched for a pulse, finding it beating low and endlessly deep, as if echoing through the Void itself.

It didn't feel right at all. In frustration, Corvo pushed the young man away, feeling his own heart beating in his ears. He knew the Outsider would allow him anything in that room so long as he elected to stay. Perhaps he could gain just a little bit of control over his life, just for the fleeting split second they were contained in.

Corvo was flushed from the kiss, fingers twitching, skin crawling. Glancing beyond the Outsider, he saw Lady Boyle's bed, red covers remarkably neat, though he knew that was a rarity. Regardless, he stood tall, nudging the other along towards the mattress and pushed him down. He found climbing over the Outsider sickly satisfying, gripping onto the rough fabric of his coat, watching him move to his every whim. There was a rush in Corvo's head as he took the man's mouth in his again, ditching the long blue overcoat onto the floor. His hands guided him, passion building at last once he straddled the other's lap. Hands were at his hips but he pushed them away, biting the Outsider's bottom lip.

Trousers felt tight and he allowed the Outsider only to unbutton them. Layers of clothing peeled off without clear memory when, but Corvo remained on top of the god below him. Hot blood pushed through his veins. The god only reacted to what he did, initiating nothing, complying with everything Corvo didn't even have to say. Whether or not his mind was being read, when he pressed his hips into the Outsider's, the man took him hard in his hand. Corvo let him touch him for a few short moments, feeling himself becoming slick with something once he felt the overwhelming urge to turn him over.

The Outsider laughed, actually laughed as Corvo pushed and held him down, wrinkling the red duvet. One hand gripped the covers, the other pressed flat against the writhing muscles of the other man's back just below his neck. His breath was haggard, panting out silent curses with every thrust fucking the demon into the luxurious red silk. He burned brighter with anger with his momentum building, the Outsider moaning insincerely through a grin the assassin couldn't see just to indulge him. The heat all around him as he moved was making his head spin, jaw falling open as he struggled to hold on.

He finished very suddenly, nails digging into fabric and skin, hips slowing to a gentle roll before stopping. Corvo didn't allow himself any time to linger before he was off the bed, mind blank, running on instinct. For a moment he had power. For a moment he was in control, false as it was. He didn't need to turn around to see the arrogant smirk he felt at his back.

Corvo didn't look behind him as he pulled his discarded clothes back on, the mask placed on his face last. He was alone once again in the room, time outside the doors resumed as normal. The Mark ached, but there was a pleasant pulse just on the edges of the shape. He had interested the god sure enough in that room and for once he could not sense the Outsider’s presence. It seemed the god was satisfied at last, but it wouldn’t last long.

Beginning to consider his next move, Corvo slowly opened the door to the hallway once the coast was clear. Although it was never easy to predict, he began to consider what was possibly most _interesting_ way of disposing of his target.


End file.
